Fic: Maybe Meant to be
Title: Maybe meant to be
Rating: PG
Fandom: South Park
All the usual disclaimers apply
*
There was never really a fuss, no blushing questions and anxious giggles. No, it was more a mutual agreement not not to date, Wendy thinks, as she finds herself standing outside South Park’s Chinese pizza-pasta restaurant.
Because they’re 16 now, and Cartman’s grown, just not really grown up. But that’s ok, because really, neither has she.
He’s still big, but he’s also really tall, so the weight spread itself out. His face is kinda, maybe good looking, and perhaps there might be a heart under all those manipulative, dastardly cells. She doesn’t know what he thinks of her, or what inspired him to voice their mutual agreement not not to date, but maybe, she kinda hopes, he thinks she’s pretty and smart.
But those thoughts are quickly followed up with a mental slap, because really, nothing changes. Nothing important anyway. Stan’s still an overly-emotional athlete who is really quite in love with his desperately-in-need-of-anger-management-classes Jewish best friend (even if neither of them have quite figured it out yet), and Kenny is still this pervy blond, who is probably worse than a desperate whore when it comes to offering his body for the lowliest of cash sums. And Cartman of course, is still probably the biggest asshole on the face of this planet and the next.
A late asshole, she thinks, as she glances at her watch for the thirteenth time that night. But he’s not quite late enough yet, for her to pack herself up and go home. Good thing too, as not five minutes later she sees him walking over the hill.
He’s wearing a nice sweater, and she’s quite sure that that will be the only thing about him that’ll be nice tonight.
Strolling over, he looks down at her with a slight frown, greets her as the ‘hippy-bitch’ and holds the door open for her as they enter the restaurant.
They won’t be together forever, hell, she’ll be surprised if this so-called-relationship-thing lasts the night. But really, she’s never been a ‘what-if’ sorta girl.
The Russian waiter gestures them to a table, one lit up with small Chinese lanterns, and Cartman throws his larger-than-life body into the small cushioned booth.
She sits down herself, and listens absently to him start to bitch to the waiter about a severe lack of breadsticks.
They’re not meant to be, she knows and watches as he casts her a sideways glance and, what on anyone else she’d call a kind grin as he stands to verbally abuse the waiter some more. But really, she thinks, as she flashes Cartman a smile of her own, what’s meant to be is boring.
*
Fin.
Rating: PG
Fandom: South Park
All the usual disclaimers apply
*
There was never really a fuss, no blushing questions and anxious giggles. No, it was more a mutual agreement not not to date, Wendy thinks, as she finds herself standing outside South Park’s Chinese pizza-pasta restaurant.
Because they’re 16 now, and Cartman’s grown, just not really grown up. But that’s ok, because really, neither has she.
He’s still big, but he’s also really tall, so the weight spread itself out. His face is kinda, maybe good looking, and perhaps there might be a heart under all those manipulative, dastardly cells. She doesn’t know what he thinks of her, or what inspired him to voice their mutual agreement not not to date, but maybe, she kinda hopes, he thinks she’s pretty and smart.
But those thoughts are quickly followed up with a mental slap, because really, nothing changes. Nothing important anyway. Stan’s still an overly-emotional athlete who is really quite in love with his desperately-in-need-of-anger-management-classes Jewish best friend (even if neither of them have quite figured it out yet), and Kenny is still this pervy blond, who is probably worse than a desperate whore when it comes to offering his body for the lowliest of cash sums. And Cartman of course, is still probably the biggest asshole on the face of this planet and the next.
A late asshole, she thinks, as she glances at her watch for the thirteenth time that night. But he’s not quite late enough yet, for her to pack herself up and go home. Good thing too, as not five minutes later she sees him walking over the hill.
He’s wearing a nice sweater, and she’s quite sure that that will be the only thing about him that’ll be nice tonight.
Strolling over, he looks down at her with a slight frown, greets her as the ‘hippy-bitch’ and holds the door open for her as they enter the restaurant.
They won’t be together forever, hell, she’ll be surprised if this so-called-relationship-thing lasts the night. But really, she’s never been a ‘what-if’ sorta girl.
The Russian waiter gestures them to a table, one lit up with small Chinese lanterns, and Cartman throws his larger-than-life body into the small cushioned booth.
She sits down herself, and listens absently to him start to bitch to the waiter about a severe lack of breadsticks.
They’re not meant to be, she knows and watches as he casts her a sideways glance and, what on anyone else she’d call a kind grin as he stands to verbally abuse the waiter some more. But really, she thinks, as she flashes Cartman a smile of her own, what’s meant to be is boring.
*
Fin.